"Not enough. "
He pulled her on top of him, curling his arms around her naked back. "Well, thats a pisspoor memory to carry around with you. How bout we change the record?"
"What do you mean?"
He came toward her. "One, two, three—"
Their lips melted together in a long, searing kiss that reignited the flames of their desire.
Mariah gave in to the passion completely, utterly. She didnt think about Stephen, or the past, or even the nagging fear that Mad Dog would leave her.
Right now, she didnt care. All she cared about was the wonderful, exhilarating things he was making her feel. She closed her eyes and tumbled into the searing, satisfying world of pure physical pleasure.
Rass quietly closed the door behind him. The minute the lock clicked into place, he sagged, feeling tired and infinitely old. The porch planks creaked beneath his feet in a whining protest that seemed absurdly loud in the silence of the night.
"Rass? You out there?"
Rass lifted his head and stared at the buggy parked in front of Doc Shermans house. Now, in the silvered moonlight, it was a shadow cast in streaks of ash gray and jet black. Cleo, the horse, was invisible against the dark night sky, and Jake was a slim reed of blackness that shot up from the charcoal seat.
Rass tried to smile for the boy. "Im here, Jake. " Tiredly he pushed away from the door and shuffled down the creaking steps, across the gravelly path to the buggy.
Jake bounced down from the drivers seat with the exuberance of youth and held out his pale hand. "Can I help you?"
"Thanks. " Rass grabbed Jakes hand and hauled himself up the springy metal steps, settling slowly on the padded leather seat.
Jake bounded in beside Rass and snapped the reins. Cleo put her big head down and began a slow, even plodding toward home.
Moonlight illuminated the wide swath of dirt road that cut through the endless acres of grass and wheat. On either side, black fences stood in sharp contrast to the blue-tinged fields. Sounds filled the night: the steady clomping of Cleos hooves on the hard-packed dirt, the wheezing snort of her breathing, the squeaking whine of well-sprung buggy wheels turning toward home.
"Thanks a lot for supper, Rass. The food was great," Jake said.
Rass attempted a smile. "It would have been better at the Chinamans place. "
Jake shuddered dramatically. "I couldnt eat that stuff. It looked like gooey grass. "
Rass laughed unexpectedly and found his mood lightening a bit. "Well, Mas Diner is good, too. "
"Yeah. Service sure is slow, though. It must be eleven oclock.
"Were in no hurry. " Rass leaned against the tufted leather seat and let out a tired breath. For the hundredth time tonight, he found himself thinking about Mariah and Mad Dog, hoping hed done the right thing in leaving them alone.
The two of them were perfect for each other; Rass was more sure of the fact with every passing day.
But Mad Dog was a bad bet, and Rass had known that from the minute they met.
Usually Rass pushed the realization aside, buried it beneath a thick layer of optimism. But at times like this, when he felt weak and sick and alone, Rass fell prey to the fear that Mad Dog would leave her . . . and Mariah would fall back into the bleak pit of her own despair.
And this time shed never come out of it.
Ah, Greta, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut. Am I doing the right thing"? The vision of his wife came to him as clear as day, her face implanted in his soul like a treasured photograph.
Bittersweet memories hurled themselves at him, and he sighed. He was too tired tonight to fight them, too tired to be strong. Loneliness pressed in on him from all sides, crushing his lungs until he could barely breathe. Tears stung his eyes.
Ah, Greta . . .
"Are you okay, Rass?"
Rass wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Fine. Why?"